The Good Enough Friend (YA)

Chapter 8.2 - August 3rd, 2019 [✔]

Loud music dragged me out of bed. My eyes were glued shut by boogers and dried tears leaving me with nothing but my foot to feel for my slippers. I always kept a spare set here.

After using his huge adjacent bathroom to freshen up, I pushed my glasses on. I wore contacts most of the time for convenience but when he called me crying last night I rushed over.

Wyatt's bedroom was directly above the basement and vibrations from the music tickled my feet. The closer I speed-walked to the basement door the louder the music became. Almost loud enough to be a party.

He has parties?

I pushed the door open and the lights flickered on. I could never get used to how the house was configured with automatic lighting. I crept down the steep steps, curious about what I would find.

Everybody  ask me how I deal with my depression

Man  look, man, I don't got the answer to your question

If I did, you would probably never hear from me again

A thick smog obstructed my view. Someone frantically sprayed air freshener.

"It's me," I lifted my hand to cover my nose, "It's not Paula!"

Four bodies collectively let out a sigh. 

The familiar funk of weed trespassed my senses.

"Heyyy," Wyatt sprung out of the loveseat, tripping over shoes and a deflated football. He lunged forward shielding me with his body.

"What are you—" I was pushed back by the impact. Grateful I didn't trip over the mountain of soccer gear on the floor. At this rate, Paula would never be out of business.

"Bra. You." The gears were turning in his head but the words weren't coming out right.

I looked down at my tank top. I never slept in a bra. It was tight and uncomfortable.

He rummaged through the basement closet and tossed me one of his signature polos. One could never run out polos.

It was a bit too hot for it but I put in on. Clearly, he didn't think it was appropriate for me to be around his friends without a bra. This time, I agreed. 

"A smoke sesh? Really?" I whispered, shaking my head at his blissed out expression and glossy eyes.

"The boys came over to cheer me up. It just happened." He couldn't whisper to save his life.

"It just happened," I repeated with a blank stare. 

I was hyperaware of the 3 extra bodies tuning into our private conversation. But I couldn't pretend I wasn't hurt by him resorting to drugs to solve his problems. 

Drugs were bad. 

They broke up families. 

They killed people. 

They ruined lives.

The smog dispersed.

Milo, Killian, and John were bunched together on a futon laughing at nothing. 

Milo?

"Zaydence," Milo's eyes focused on me, "you're here? You want a turn?" he held the blunt in my direction.

It didn't make sense for him to be there, 10 feet away, in this basement, passing a blunt to his soccer teammate, like it was nothing. For someone who wanted to get healthy, smoking was a major setback. It was hurting his progress.

I shook my head no.

Wyatt put an arm around my shoulder, "She's a straight edge. No drugs, no alc, no sex, no nothing,"

Killian fake coughed, "Virgin alert!"

I tensed up. "Virginity is a social construct," was what my brain decided to spew.

"Only virgins say fodd like that," Killian shot back, his starter locs bouncing every which way. 

It was John who had been quiet the entire time that defended me. He shushed him, "We're all virgins, shut the fuck up."

I mouthed thank you, hoping he could see it under the dim lighting.

When Wyatt was under the influence nothing was off limits to him. He said and did whatever the fuck he wanted. I hated this side of him. The no sex thing was too far. They didn't need to know that.

I couldn't handle these people I barely knew knowing intimate details about me. He might as well have told them I was asexual too. Add more salt in the wound.

I shook his bony limb off of me and told him I was going home.

This was too much. 

Later that day, I couldn't stop thinking about something Wyatt had said. That the boys came over to cheer him up.

No!

The boys didn't cuddle him when he cried.

The boys didn't run over there at 11 at night.

The boys brought over drugs.

And anti-virgin rhetoric.

The boys didn't cheer him up.

I did.